The Bachelorette Party
by TunaEveryNight
Summary: Despite Tandy's repeated promises that there would be nothing raunchy about this affair, Rayna somehow still found herself sitting in the tastefully decorated suite of the city's most expensive hotel, surrounded by her girlfriends and holding a pair of red, lace crotch-less panties.
1. The Party

A/N: Thank you so much, piratewench78, for the feedback and amazing beta read on this story. I'm very grateful for all your help!

Disclaimer: I do not own Nashville or any of it's characters.

* * *

Rayna had not wanted a bachelorette party. Bachelorette parties were for women in their twenties and first time brides. She was neither of those things. But Tandy had insisted.

"I don't understand why you don't want a party," Tandy had argued. "It's just a chance for us to get together with some girlfriends, drink a little champagne, and celebrate the fact that you and Deacon are finally getting married."

It was a dirty move. But then, Tandy had learned how to play dirty from the best of them.

Tandy was completely devoted to and fiercely protective of her sister. She wanted nothing more than for Rayna to be happy and, as much as the relationship worried her, she knew that Deacon Claybourne made her sister happier than anymore. So, she had made her peace with the fact that Rayna and Deacon were finally tying the knot and settling down together as a family.

However, Tandy was still not the biggest Deacon Claybourne fan, and she had never bothered to hide that fact. So, if she was willing to bury the hatchet and throw Rayna a little party to celebrate her impending marriage, Rayna was not going to object. She did, however, have a long, completely _non-negotiable_ list of stipulations. No tiaras or sashes, no clothing with the words 'bride,' 'fiancé,' or 'bitch' emblazoned on them and absolutely no penis-shaped novelty items. She was absolute.

"Seriously, babe!?" Tandy had thrown her hands up in exasperation. "What kind of a party do you think I'm planning? You're my baby sister. I would never throw some tacky, Spring break-themed bachelorette for you. Trust me, it's going to be super classy."

"Fine," Rayna had finally agreed after quite a bit of back and forth between the sisters. "And no strippers, either, Tandy. I'm serious! I don't want anything raunchy."

"Oh my god, will you relax?" Tandy had rolled her eyes once again for good measure. "There won't be anything raunchy about this party. It's going to be elegant and classy and you're going to have an amazing time. I promise!"

So, Tandy had rented out the Presidential Suite at the Hermitage hotel the weekend before the wedding and invited fifteen of Rayna's closest girlfriends. The room was decorated with soft pink and gold balloons, and Tandy had even created a signature cocktail for the occasion...a deceivingly strong, sparkling lemonade and berry spritzer that she had named "the blushing bride". Everyone was beautifully dressed in their best cocktail wear, and dinner had been catered by her favorite restaurant. The dining table had been set with elegant, gold linens and crystal stemware, and there wasn't a single novelty condom or penis-shaped straw in sight.

Rayna had been expecting tacky party decorations and tawdry sex jokes from her friends, but she was pleasantly surprised by how sophisticated and enjoyable this celebration had turned out to be.

At least it had been until the gift exchange.

Despite Tandy's repeated promises that there would be nothing raunchy about this affair, Rayna somehow still found herself sitting in the tastefully decorated suite of the city's most expensive hotel, surrounded by her girlfriends and holding a pair of red, lace crotch-less panties.

"Okay, you know the rules," Tandy called out as she topped off her glass of champagne. "You have to guess who that's from."

The game was simple. Each woman had brought a gift: one piece of lingerie and one sex toy. Rayna was supposed to guess who had brought each gift as she opened them and if she guessed incorrectly, that person was allowed to ask her one question about her sex life. Which she had to answer completely and honestly. No exceptions.

"Um...Rebecca?" Rayna asked tentatively.

"Oh, girl, not even close!" her long-time stylist and friend laughed. "I don't believe in wearing panties at all. Why would I bother with crotch-less ones?"

Everyone laughed loudly at her response, and then Tandy called the attention back to the game. "Alright, whose gift was this?" she asked looking around the room.

"Uh...it was mine," Scarlett squeaked out, raising her hand timidly.

Rayna's eyes widened with disbelief. She certainly wasn't a prude, and she knew that Scarlett was a grown woman with a seemingly, healthy sex life of her own. But it was still hard to believe that the teeny, tiny baby she'd held in her arms at three days old had just gifted her a red lace bustier with matching, crotch-less undies and an assortment of scented massage oils.

"Ooh," Tandy trilled, raising her glass towards the blushing girl in an appreciative gesture, "look who has a naughty side! Good for you, Scarlett!"

"Well, I just figured if Rayna didn't have to worry about taking them off, she wouldn't have to worry about losing them all over Uncle Deacon's house like she has a tendency to do," Scarlett said much to everyone's amusement.

"What!?" Pam, Rayna's singer/songwriter friend, had barked loudly. "Oh, we're going to need details, please!"

"Wait! Deacon moved in with you months ago," Sadie had pointed out. "Why are y'all still having sex at his house?"

"Well...because…I mean," Rayna flustered as everyone waited for her answer. "We have two teenage girls at home. Sometimes, it can be really hard to find a private moment to ourselves with the girls and their friends running in and out of the house at all hours of the day."

"Mmhmm," Scarlett nodded her head knowingly. "So sometimes, when they think no one's at home, they like to sneak over to Uncle Deacon's and enjoy their little traveling sex-capades at a different address."

"Oh my god...that is awesome!" Sadie howled. "Please tell us how you know this, Scarlett!"

"Let's just say that over the last few months, I've found several pairs of women's underthings wedged between the couch cushions and one pair frozen solid to the bottom of a carton of ice cream."

Bawdy laughter rang throughout the room, and Rayna's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she remembered that night. Scarlett had been out on tour with The Exes, and Maddie had been hosting a sleep over for several of her girlfriends. They had told the girls they were going out to dinner but in reality they had simply snuck over to Deacon's for a few hours of adults-only fun. They had been snuggled up on the couch in post-coital bliss, an empty pizza box discarded on the floor and an old black and white film playing quietly on TV. Deacon had grabbed the container of ice cream and a single spoon from the kitchen and the cold, sticky kisses they had shared in between bites of ice cream had quickly proven much more interesting than any manufactured movie plot. They had barely made it halfway through the film before Deacon had pushed the soft, flannel blanket from around her shoulders, laid her down on the couch, and dripped melted ice cream all over her naked breasts. The rest of the movie, and apparently her panties, had quickly been forgotten as he'd used his warm, talented tongue to clean up every single drop of that mint chip ice cream.

"Oh my god, Scarlett," Rayna whispered, in a horrified voice. "I had no idea you knew about that."

"Well, from now on, if you and your fiancé want to sneak away for a little nookie, maybe you should just rent a hotel room like the rest of us do," Tandy laughed.

"Don't forget your question, Scarlett," Juliette called out. "You get to ask Rayna anything you want...as long as it's dirty."

"I'm not sure there's any question that I _want_ an answer to," Scarlett said. "Y'all do realize the man she's marrying is my uncle, right?"

* * *

Forty minutes later, Rayna had unwrapped quite a collection of goodies. She had only managed to guess one of the gifts correctly and that was by sheer luck.

"Damn it," Sadie pouted as Rayna placed the clit pink, fishnet mini dress and matching six inch, acrylic stripper heels back inside the sparkly, white gift bag. "I had a really good question picked out, too."

It didn't slow down the game, though. She still had quite a few gifts to open and several more questions to answer.

Kimberly, a back-up singer who'd been a permanent part of Rayna's band for the better part of eight years had gifted Rayna a black, pleather pantie set and a bondage for beginner's play kit. "Okay, Rayna," she asked excitedly. "Have you ever made a sex tape!?"

"Oh my god, no!" Rayna answered quickly. "And I have never been tempted to, either, thank you very much."

"Oh, come on!" Sadie demanded. "You've _never_ been tempted? Not even a little?"

"Okay," Rayna reluctantly admitted, "years and years ago, when we were out on our second tour, Deacon and I got a little drunk one night in our hotel room and took a whole bunch of dirty Polaroids. I was always really nervous that someone else would get their hands on them, though, so we ended up burning them a few months later. But that's as close as I've ever come to making a sex tape. I swear!"

Rebecca gave her a beautiful, deep blue corset with delicate lace trim and a remote-controlled vibrating bullet. "You know...for red carpets and stuff," she had shrugged as if that were the most logical explanation for the small device in Rayna's hand. She had asked Rayna when she'd last made love outdoors and then a debate had broken out over whether or not having sex in a car was considered the same thing as having sex outside.

"Having sex in a car is definitely not the same thing as having sex outside," Juliette had argued. "You can find plenty of privacy in the backseat of a car."

"Well, that's true," Scarlett agreed, "but what about in a convertible or, like, in the back of a pick up?"

"I've had sex in a convertible," Tandy weighed in authoritatively. "And it definitely counts. As long as the top is down."

"Alright, Rayna," Adria joked, "Spill. The last night time you got it on in a convertible, was the top up or down?"

Rayna chuckled good-naturedly, "Well, the last time I had sex outside, it wasn't in a car at all so the question is irrelevant."

"Details, please!" Rebecca laughed, "We're going to need date, location and position."

"And number of orgasms," Juliette demanded, finishing off yet another cocktail.

"Um...three weeks ago," Rayna started, "the dock outside of Deacon's cabin. Missionary. And, um...two," she answered, blushing lightly.

"On a boat dock?" Tandy asked, looking a little shocked. "Really?"

"It was a beautiful day out," Rayna shrugged happily, "Deacon was busy doing some chores around the cabin so I decided to lay out on the dock and work on my tan. He came out to check on me a little while later, and I asked him if he'd rub some more sunscreen on my back…," her voiced drifted off, remembering how he had straddled her thighs and rubbed the lotion into her shoulders and neck before using his large hands to stoke down the backs of her arms one at a time. He had hesitated for only a moment before slowly untying the long, red string of her bikini top. She had felt him watching her carefully, waiting for her reaction, as he'd moved his hands further down. She'd simply pulled the bikini top over her head, flung it to the side, and rolled onto her back. His eyes had widened in delighted surprise as she'd winked at him and asked him to lotion her front, as well. His warm hands had immediately cupped her breasts and he'd asked if she wanted to go back to the cabin, but she'd simply shook her head no and pulled him in for a languid kiss. "Bad girl," he'd chuckled against her mouth as his hands had drifted down to her hips and untied her bikini bottoms, as well. "...and then before I knew it," Rayna finished, "he'd untied my bikini and, well...one thing just sorta led to another."

"Can you rub some sunscreen on my back," Kimberly scoffed. "That has to be the oldest line in the book."

"What can I say?" Rayna shrugged. "It may be old but it still works."

Juliette gifted her a sheer, red mesh teddy that was cut high above the hip bones and left absolutely nothing to the imagination and a leather, spanking paddle. Never one to be outdone, Juliette had looked her right in the eye and loudly asked if she'd ever had anal sex. Rayna was too shocked to answer but her deep, crimson blush and the way she quickly averted her eyes was all the answer Juliette needed. "Ha! I knew it!" Juliette had squealed as the rest of the room burst out in raucous laughter.

The next to last gift was from Whitney, a producer friend whom she'd known for most of her career. She gave Rayna a long, black lace negligee and a purple "rabbit" vibrator with massaging pearls and a "bunny ear" clit stimulator. "Have you ever had sex in a dressing room that wasn't yours?" Whitney had asked gleefully.

"Oh, I know this story," Pam had hooted as Rayna placed her hands over her face and giggled with embarrassment. "And it's a good one."

"Yes, I have," Rayna confirmed, "but it was completely by accident."

Securing the opening spot on Travis Tritt's arena tour had been a huge break for her career. It was the first big tour she'd ever played on and she'd always made sure that she conducted herself as professionally as possible. One night, though, the smoldering looks and incessant flirting between her and Deacon had gotten the better of them. They'd practically run off that stage once their set was finished, Deacon shoving his guitar at a nearby roadie, and had stumbled their way into her dressing room, his lips attached to her throat and her fingers raking through his hair. He'd thrown her sparkly, halter top across the room and pushed her denim skirt up around her hips before pressing her against the dressing table and ravishing her like their lives had depended on it.

"When did you realize you were in the wrong dressing room?" Scarlett asked, breathless with laughter.

"About the same time Travis Tritt walked in on us," Rayna answered, dryly. "Thankfully, we had most of our clothes back on by that point but, I swear, that man teased us about that for the whole rest of the tour."

"I'd love to have sex in Travis Tritt's dressing room," Tandy cackled. "_With_ Travis Tritt," she finished, wiggling her eyebrows.

"You and me, both, girl," Kimberly agreed.

"Alright, this is the last one so there's no point in guessing," Tandy said handing her a hot pink, polka dotted gift bag, "I'll just go ahead and tell you it's from me. I thought it might work for the wedding night." The bustier and matching thong were made out of white mesh, and the cups of the bustier were completely cut out to expose the breasts. There was a pair of matching lace-topped thigh highs and a complicated looking garter belt that looked a lot more "stripper" than "bridal." Rayna couldn't imagine wearing anything that slutty on her very first night as Deacon's wife. The vibrating ben wa balls did look rather..._intriguing_, though.

* * *

"Did everyone get enough to eat?" Tandy asked moving the platters of mini-desserts off the coffee table and setting them on the bar. Always an impeccable host, Tandy had made sure that everyone's drinks had been refilled as often as possible, ensuring that everyone in the room had a fairly strong buzz going once Rayna had finished opening all of her gifts. "Wonderful," Tandy hummed as everyone voiced their thanks, "Well, now that we're all fed and have had a few cocktails, it's almost time for our very special guest to arrive." The room twittered with excitement and a few very un-lady-like catcalls, but Rayna was having none of it.

"Tandy, you didn't!" she practically yelled. "I told you I didn't want a stripper!"

"Oh my lord, Rayna, would you relax! It's not a stripper, I promise!"

"I swear, Tandy, if it's a stripper, I'm leaving! I am not even kidding."

"Stop being such a fuddy duddy, Rayna!" Adria called out from across the room. "I got a whole bunch of singles in my purse just waitin' to be shoved down somebody's g-string."

Before Rayna could get any more worked up, there was a knock on the hotel room door, and Tandy rushed to answer it. A middle-aged woman with a stern expression and a severely tailored, black sheath dress entered the room. She was wearing an intimidating pair of shiny, lace-up stilettos boots and held a large, brown shopping bag that Emily and Juliette immediately jumped up to help her with.

"This is Mistress Vivienne," Tandy announced to the room. "She is a trained dominatrix and a professional sex educator who specializes in manual stimulation, oral pleasure and deep throating."

"Seriously?" Sadie snorted quietly next to Rayna. "Is that a real job title? 'Cause I'd pay five bucks to see _that_ diploma."

Rayna would have laughed if she hadn't been so horrified by the huge collection of dildos that Juliette and Emily were currently unpacking and lining up on the coffee table. There was a wide variety of sizes and colors available...some of them so large and intimidating that they verged on comical. Finally, Emily unpacked several, tiny bottles of edible lubricant, a large assortment of flavored condoms and a half dozen travel packs of baby wipes.

"Mistress Vivienne is going to teach a little workshop for us tonight, ladies," Tandy said, clapping her hands together in excitement. "First, she's going to teach us a few hand job techniques and then we'll move on to blow jobs and beginner deep throating."

"Oh my god. I cannot believe this is happening right now," Rayna groaned, watching as several of her friends started examining and choosing dildos as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"First, we're going to begin with hand jobs," Mistress Vivienne explained in a clear, no-nonsense voice. "Hand jobs are often underrated by women, but even the most basic techniques I'm going to teach you here today can provide a solid and satisfactory foundation of sexual pleasure for the man in your life. Hand jobs can serve as a complete sexual act, beginning with seduction and progressing all the way through to climax, or you can add layers of pleasure as you go along...for instance adding oral stimulation or incorporating your feet or breasts into the act."

Rayna glanced around the room and, while a few of her friends were pink-cheeked with embarrassment, all of them were listening to Mistress Vivienne's lecture with rapt attention.

"Also," Mistress Vivienne continued, "when performed correctly, hand jobs can be wonderfully discreet, allowing you to tease and pleasure your man in a public setting. On an airplane for instance. Or even in a restaurant. Now," Mistress Vivienne's eyes quickly scanned the room, "which one of you ladies is the bride?"

Rayna's eyes bulged in horror. She opened her mouth to protest but she couldn't force any sound out.

"She's right here!" Sadie called out gleefully, making exaggerated pointing motions in Rayna's direction.

"No...no," Rayna stuttered quietly, willing the couch to open up and swallow her whole. "I don't want…I'm fine here."

Completely ignoring her unwillingness, Mistress Vivienne patted the chair next to her, "Come on up here, please. I'm going to have you sit next to me during the lesson. First, I'll demonstrate the technique that we're going to practice, and then you can try it out for yourself."

"Oh...no," Rayna shook her head reluctantly. "Really. I don't think..."

"Rayna," Mistress Vivienne's stern voice left no room for argument. "Now, please."

Rayna stood up from the couch and slowly made her way towards Mistress Vivienne, timidly lowering herself into the chair and refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

"Wonderful," Mistress Vivienne said. "Now, I'll be able to watch your form and help you make corrections as necessary. Alright, ladies," she announced to the room, "first we're going to begin with a few, simple one-handed techniques and then we'll slowly progress to two-handed techniques as you become more proficient." She turned her attention back to Rayna, "Now, Rayna, if you'd please choose a dildo, we'll get started with our lesson."

"Umm," Rayna stared wide eyed at the woman standing in front of her.

"Here you go, sweetie," Tandy said choosing a large, alarmingly realistic looking dildo off the coffee table. "I think this one will work just fine for you," she said handing her the surprisingly heavy rubber toy.

Pam nudged her shoulder gently against Rayna's. "The ten-incher, huh?" she said with a leer in her voice. "Lucky you."

"Well, I have certainly never seen Deacon Claybourne in his altogether," Tandy started, "but my sister has been completely hung up on him for the better part of thirty years so I can make an educated guess about the kind of equipment that man is carrying around in his toolbox."

* * *

The music in the club was way too loud. An endless string of pop songs with indistinguishable melodies and thumping base lines. There was a mechanical bull next to the DJ booth, metal dance poles lining the bar, and several emaciated "shot girls" with push up bars and tacky hair extensions offering tequila shots from their cleavage.

Rayna hated it. It was late, and she'd sobered up a bit in the limo on the way over. Now, she just felt tired and worn out. And very, very old. She swore Daphne was older than half the girls in this club.

Juliette was having a grand ole time throwing back cosmopolitans and dancing on the bar. Several girls and one very shady looking guy with a stained shirt and scraggly beard had recognized her, and they were happily cheering her on as she drunkenly danced on the bar top and sang along with the bass-heavy dance tracks. Something about cheating hos and champagne rooms. Rayna couldn't make out the lyrics, but she didn't really care to either.

Tandy and Pam were on the dance floor grinding against a couple of preppy looking boys who were at least half their age. If they were old enough to be in college, they were just.

Rayna sighed tiredly and decided she needed some fresh air. She left the roped off VIP area and walked towards the dark hallway located behind the DJ station. Adria was taking yet another turn on the mechanical bull and was surprisingly good at it. Her long, dark hair flailed behind her as she waved her right arm in the air above her head and rolled her hips in an exaggerated, vaguely obscene, fashion. She'd already gotten three phone numbers, tonight, and if the small line of men staring wide-eyed at her performance was anything to go by, she'd probably have a lot more before she left the club.

She made her way down the dingy hallway until she spotted what she was looking for. A decrepit exit sign hanging over a heavy, exterior door. She leaned her weight into the door and it slowly swung open. Cold air immediately hit her face and her ears rang with the sudden silence.

"Hey, girl," Sadie called out from where she was sitting a few feet away. She was perched on a set of concrete steps, a drink beside her feet and a lit cigarette between her fingers.

Rayna walked over and eased herself down on the steps next to Sadie, "I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't," Sadie answered. "Well, not usually. Only when I've been drinking. You want one?" she asked reaching for her purse.

Rayna shook her head, "No, but can I maybe just have a drag off of yours?"

"Sure," Sadie said handing her the cigarette and watching as Rayna took a deep pull, slowly closing her eyes and holding the smoke in her lungs for a long moment. "I know it's terrible for my vocal cords, but there is just something so damn satisfying about smoking a cigarette when you're drunk."

Rayna nodded in agreement and slowly exhaled a long stream of smoke before handing the cigarette back to Sadie.

"You having fun, tonight?"

"Yeah," Rayna shrugged. "I mean...I was. Dance clubs aren't really my thing. I'm just so ready to go home and crawl into bed. I'm exhausted."

"Mmhmm," Sadie hummed, "I'm sure you wanting to get home and into bed has everything to do with you being tired and nothing at all to do with the sexy-as-all-hellfire guitar player who's probably lying up in that bed as we speak."

"Uh, don't remind me. I have no idea why my sister thought I'd want to come to some cheesy nightclub and suck down twenty dollar cocktails with a bunch of skanky preschoolers. I should've just gone straight home after the hotel. I could be snuggled up naked in my own bed, right now, doing very dirty things to the man I love."

Sadie threw her head back and let out a deep, throaty laugh. "Would you look at little Miss Rayna Jaymes over here?" she cackled. "You know, I never would have guessed that you had such a dirty mind back when I first met you. I like this side of you."

"Yeah, well, Deacon just tends to bring that out of me," Rayna shrugged. "Hey, do you have your phone on you? Tandy confiscated mine back at the hotel."

"Sure," Sadie said as she ground the last of her cigarette against the concrete step and begin rummaging through her handbag. "So...the sex is really that good, huh?" she asked wiggling her eyebrows comically. "I mean, I'd heard rumors about the two of y'all, but when I saw y'all together for the first time…the way that y'all were looking at each other..._good lord_, I thought the whole room was gonna go up in flames."

Rayna groaned loudly, "You have no idea. All these years later and that man is _still_ the best I've ever had. I swear, he does things to me in bed that I've never even imagined. Let alone heard names for."

Sadie giggled and took a sip of her cocktail as Rayna dialed a familiar number on Sadie's phone. It rang a few times before he picked up, his voice sounding gravely and a little confused. "Hello?"

"Hey, babe," she drawled, her voice just a little bit drunker and a whole lot louder than she had intended.

He chuckled softly on the other end of the line, and she suddenly remembered every single naughty phone call they'd ever shared. "Hey, yourself. You havin' a good time at your party, baby?"

"Yeah, I miss you, though," she replied. "I wish I was home with you right now. In our bed," she teased. "Naked."

"Oh, is that what this is?" he laughed quietly. "One of those dirty phone calls? You gonna ask me what I'm wearin', too?"

"Nope," Rayna replied happily. "I don't care a fig about what you're wearing, baby. I just want you to take it off."

Sadie snorted loudly next to her.

"Who's that there with you, baby?" he asked.

"Sadie," she answered. "I had to borrow her phone. Tandy took mine."

"Mmm," he hummed. "I was wondering whose number this was. Probably shouldn't be having an obscene phone call right in front of her, though. Wouldn't want to shock the poor girl with how down right scandalous you can be when you're all hot and bothered."

"Deacon Claybourne! You did _not_ just call me scandalous!" she scolded a little louder than she should have. "You love my dirty mouth and don't even try to pretend for one second that you don't."

"Oh, baby, I can't get enough of you _or_ your mouth," he purred. "I wish your mouth was here right now. I'd show you just how dirty it could be."

"Come get me," she nearly begged. Deacon had always known exactly what to say and do to get her going. Add in a couple of strong cocktails and the sound of his slow, sexy, southern drawl in her ear and she was more than ready to be done with this party.

"You know I can't do that, darlin,'" Deacon soothed. "Your sister's worked real hard to put this night together for you. You should go hang out with your friends and have some fun. They'll bring you home soon enough."

"But I want to be home with you right now," she practically whined. "In our bed, remember? My mouth. My hands. Your di..."

"You are not making this easy for me, Ray," he laughed loudly, cutting her off.

"No?" she asked. "Am I making it _hard_?" she whispered in a naughty voice. Sadie let out another long peel of shocked laughter, but Rayna had long stopped paying attention to her friend.

"You always make me hard, baby. But you already know that."

"So come pick me up," she asked again.

"Nope. Not gonna do it," he answered. "Your sister would have my hide if I came and took you away from your party. You know that woman has never had any use for me, and I'm not about to be puttin' myself on her bad side eight days before we get ourselves hitched."

"I know, but I just miss you so damn much..." Rayna started.

"What in the world are y'all doing out here?" Tandy suddenly rounded the corner and stared at the two of them with a stern expression. "And what are you doing with a phone, Missy?" she directed at Rayna, grabbing the phone and quickly ending the call. "You know you're not supposed to be calling him, tonight. You're supposed to be enjoying your bachelorette celebration."

"Busted," Sadie snickered next to her as she quickly gathered her things and stood up.

"Come on, Rayna," Tandy reached for her hand and pulled her up from the steps. "Let's get you another drink. We still have a lot more celebrating to do before the night's over."


	2. After Party

The sunlight filtered through her closed eyelids and intensified the dull throbbing in her head. The inside of her mouth felt like dry cotton, and every muscle in her body ached.

"Ugh," Rayna let out an unlady-like grunt as she gingerly rolled onto her back. Her stomach flip flopped, and she had to grit her teeth against a strong wave of nausea.

"Well, good morning, Sunshine," his cheery voice greeted her. She felt the bed dip as he sat down next to her and smelled the strong, welcome scent of coffee.

"Oh, god," she groaned, still not opening her eyes. "I am never _ever_ drinking again."

"Mmhmm," he chuckled. "Famous last words."

"What time did I get home last night?"

"A little after 3:30," he answered. "You don't remember?"

"No," she gently shook her head and quickly realized what a terrible mistake that was. "I remember most of the night but everything after we got to the club is a little fuzzy. Tandy kept ordering these shots called red-headed sluts...," he nodded even though her eyes were still closed. "Apparently, she thought it would be a great idea to mix champagne and Jager," she sighed, her voice weak and scratchy. "It wasn't."

"Yeah, well, Tandy was completely passed out in the back of the limo when you got home this morning so I can only imagine how she's feelin' right about now."

"Serves her right. Making me drink that much."

"I don't know," he murmured. "The girls were so excited to spend the day with her like she had promised that they made me drive 'em over to the hotel at 8:30 this morning. I kept telling 'em brunch doesn't start til much later in the day, especially when you've had a few drinks the night before, but you know how they are once their minds are mind up."

"Oh, lord," she winced. "How bad did Tandy look when you saw her?"

"Oh, no," he laughed. "I dropped those girls off right at the elevator, and then I high-tailed it out of there. Tandy don't like me on a good day. I ain't about to show up at the crack of dawn and stand around making idle chit chat with her while she's nursing a hangover and those girls of ours are running around jabberin' about every single store they wanna visit on their afternoon shopping trip."

Rayna chuckled lightly, "Smart man." She carefully sat up, grabbing an extra pillow from his side of the bed and shoving it behind her back before closing her eyes once again.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you hungover, baby. Y'all musta had a real good time at your party."

"I'm sorry," she groaned. "I had no intention of drinking that much last night. Hell, I hadn't even planned on staying out that late."

"It's fine, Ray," he soothed. "I'd actually forgotten how adorable you are when you're hungover."

"Well, I must be about as cute as a basket of newborn kittens right now," she moaned. "Ugh...my head."

"Here," he said, pressing a steaming coffee mug into her hand. "Try sipping on this. The caffeine will help your headache."

"Mmm," she hummed her thanks as she brought the mug to her lips. The coffee was strong and sweet. Just how she liked it. "You're too good to me, babe," she sighed.

"You want something to eat? I could make you some scrambled eggs or something."

"I don't even want to think about food right now," she groaned.

"You sure? Not even some toast? Might help settle your stomach."

"No, just the coffee. It's working wonders, babe, thank you."

"Alright but after that, you need to switch to water. And a lot of it. Trust me, that's the only thing in this world that actually helps a hangover."

"Will do," she said, placing the coffee cup back on the nightstand and gently maneuvering until she was able to lay her head on his lap. His fingers automatically moved to her head, gently stroking her hair while she rested her eyes and tried to block out the insistent pounding in her head.

"This is agony," she groaned, causing him to chuckle softly.

"What can I do, baby? What's gonna make you feel better?"

Her mouth was dry and her hair reeked with the stale stench of synthetic fog that seemed to permeate dance clubs. She hadn't taken her makeup off before falling asleep and she was pretty sure she could make out the lingering smell of cigarette smoke on her skin.

"I really want to brush my teeth and take a shower, but I'm not sure I have the strength."

"Come on," he said patting her arm gently for her to sit up. "I have an idea."

* * *

They laid together, soaking in the massive bath tub. The water was warm and the bathroom was filled with the sweet, fruity scent of her shampoo. She was laying against him, her back against his chest and his long legs cradled around hers. He'd filled the tub while she'd brushed her teeth and washed her face, and then he'd gently helped her into the bath. She'd sat in between his legs as he thoroughly shampooed her hair, pouring cup after cup of clean water over her scalp until he'd washed all the suds away. It had felt so good that she'd nearly cried.

"You are way too good at that, babe," she practically purred as his strong fingers massaged her temples. "I had no idea you were so good at shampooing hair."

He placed a soft kiss on the side of her neck, "Well, I've always been good with my hands," he teased.

"Mmm, you're telling me."

"'Suppose it's nice to have a backup, though. If this whole guitar player thing doesn't work out for me, I guess I can always become a professional shampoo boy."

"Nope," Rayna laughed. "The only hair I want you shampooing is mine. For the rest of my life."

He chuckled happily and she felt the gentle movement against her back. "Guess I'll have to add it to my vows, then, huh? I promise to love, honor, cherish and shampoo Rayna Jaymes, and only Rayna Jaymes, everyday for the rest of my life..."

"Oh, now that's got a real nice ring to it!" she laughed.

"You feelin' a little bit better, baby?" he asked.

"So much. This bath was a wonderful idea. The only thing that could make it better is a foot massage."

"You don't have to ask me twice," he said, gently sitting up so she could reposition herself. "Turn around and I'll rub your feet for you."

Rayna turned around carefully, mindful not to splash water over the edge, and leaned back against the edge of the tub. "Well, my goodness! Aren't you just spoiling me rotten this morning," she purred.

"Well, you nursed me through more than my fair share of hangovers over the years," he smiled, holding her right foot in both of his hands and using his strong fingers to massage her heel. "I'm just happy I can take care of you for a change." He ran his knuckles firmly down the arch of her foot, and she shivered with how good it felt. "So, tell me about your party, baby. I know y'all went out dancin' but what else did y'all get up to?"

"Well, we started out in Tandy's hotel suite," she answered. "She had dinner catered from the Italian place I like, and then I opened gifts and they made me answer a bunch of super, embarrassing questions."

"What kinda questions?"

"Sex questions."

"Sex questions?" he asked, surprised. "Like what?"

"Oh my lord," she groaned. "What didn't they ask me? They asked if I'd ever been tied up during sex, if I'd ever made a sex tape, if I'd ever had sex on an airplane…," she felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment remembering her friends' intrusive questions from the night before. "I gotta tell ya, babe, I think my friends know way too much about our sex life now. I have a feeling it's gonna be real awkward looking them in the eye at our wedding reception. I can't believe Tandy made me answer all those questions."

"Did she you get you a stripper?" he teased. He'd found it hilarious how adamant Rayna had been about not wanting a stripper at her bachelorette party. And he'd found it even more hilarious how many times she'd brought it up to Tandy, forcibly making her sister promise to respect her wishes. Unbelievably, Tandy could be even more stubborn than her sister, and he'd half expected her to hire a stripper just to get Ranya all riled up.

"Worse," Rayna rolled her eyes. "A dominatrix."

Deacon's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "A what now?"

"Yep. Mistress Vivienne. Purveyor of Pleasure...or something like that," Rayna waved her hands around dismissively. "I can't remember now."

"And what exactly does a dominatrix do at a bachelorette party?" he asked in a confused voice.

"She taught a blow job class," Rayna answered dryly.

"A blow job class?" he asked slowly, clearly confused and a little frightened.

"Yep. She brought all these crazy dildos with her, passed them out to everybody and spent an hour teaching us how to "bring pleasure and variety to all of the penises in our lives," Rayna made finger quotes as she rolled her eyes. "It was so embarrassing."

"So y'all were just sittin' around in a hotel room? Fondlin' a bunch of fake, plastic penises?"

"Yep," Rayna laughed. "It was super weird. Kinda funny but...I don't know...just really awkward, too."

"Yeah, I bet," he murmured, shaking his head in amazement. He placed her foot gently back in the water and picked up her left foot and begin massaging it as well, starting at the ankle and gently kneading his fingers down towards her toes. "So, did y'all get graded on y'alls fake, penis fondlin' skills?" he teased. "She pass out gold stars or something?"

"No, but if she had, Adria would've gotten all of 'em," Rayna said. "The last lesson was on deep throating, and she asked for a volunteer. Adria just tossed back her drink, picked up this huge, eight inch dido and just slid the whole thing down her throat in one breath. Just as easy as you please."

"Jesus Christ, Rayna!" Deacon yelped. "Why would you tell me something like that? How am I ever supposed to look her in the eye again after hearing a story like that?"

"Don't worry, babe, after you see the gift she sent for you, I don't think you're going to _want_ to make eye contact with her ever again."

Deacon's eyes widened in fear, "I'm almost afraid to ask," he muttered.

"Well, she gifted us a lovely, baby doll nightie for me" Rayna said dryly, "and a vibrating, cock ring for you."

Deacon was silent for several seconds before he finally spoke up, "A vibrating what now?"

"Yep. It's this jelly-like plastic ring that goes over your...you know," Rayna nodded towards Deacon's lap, currently hidden under the warm water and several inches of bath bubbles, "and it has another ring where you can attach this vibrating bullet thing."

"Why would you…I mean who would want," Deacon stuttered out in a confused voice. "I don't want anything vibrating against my dick. That doesn't sound fun at all."

"Well, the vibration isn't for you exactly," Rayna explained. "The bullet is supposed to line up against the clit, I think? Adria was telling me it provides more stimulation during intercourse. She said it's really good for women who have trouble coming from just sex."

"Well," Deacon smirked, "_you've_ certainly never had that problem. Hell, you usually get off a couple times before we're done."

"Yeah," Rayna laughed nervously, quickly averting her eyes and feeling her cheeks flush.

"What?" he asked. "What's that look for?"

"What? Nothing," she answered awkwardly.

"Wait," Deacon drawled, his eyes searching her face, "Are you telling me…?"

"I didn't tell you anything," Rayna started defensively.

"Oh, I think you did," he laughed. "Someone have a hard time gettin' you off, baby?" he teased. She blushed a deep shade of red and refused to make eye contact. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Oh my god," Rayna cried out in exasperation. "I am not talking about this with you."

"You don't have to," he laughed. "I'm sure I can figure it out. Let's see," Deacon pretended to ponder over her past lovers, enjoying himself entirely too much, "who could it have been? There was Luke," he pointed out, "he pretty much spent his entire career singing other people's songs, and he played the exact same set list over and over again every single night he was on tour. I can't imagine his lack of creativity was much fun in the bedroom."

Rayna rolled her eyes but remained quiet.

"Then there was Liam," he continued. "He had that pretty boy thing going on but he was a cocky, little prick sometimes. Always had to one up everybody. Always had to be right about everything. Couldn't help but think he was trying to over-compensate for something else entirely."

Rayna snorted a laugh but said nothing.

"Was that the problem, Ray?" he asked. "Did Liam have trouble _measur__ing__ up_? Did you find him _lacking_?"

"Would you stop?" she barked, unable to hold back her laughter. "I am not discussing this with you."

"'Course then there was good ole Teddy," he continued, undeterred. "I can't imagine it was easy to make love to a man who had that big of a stick shoved up his ass."

"Oh, would you stop it," Rayna lightly shoved her foot against his chest in admonishment. "Teddy wasn't that bad. He was only ever that uptight when you were around."

"Mmhmm," Deacon hummed. "A nice boy from Belle Meade. Went to business school. Spent his afternoons at the country club. Liked to play golf. Never knew a hard day's work in all his life." His eyes raked over her body, "I bet he didn't even have a clue what to do with a real woman like you." He raised his eyebrows and looked at her questioningly, "And I bet after a while he didn't even try anymore, did he, baby?"

"Why would you think that?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to massaging her foot, seeming to get lost in the past for a moment. "We went on a lot tours together, Ray. I watched him say goodbye to you a whole lotta times over the years and it always just seemed so damn...chaste. A hug. A quick kiss on the lips. Hell, baby, if you were leaving to go on the road for a month, I'd send you off with a goodbye that would leave you walkin' funny for a week. And I'd sure as hell kiss you so good that your knees would buckle before you could even climb on that damn tour bus. And I ain't never seen Teddy boy do that."

"You're being ridiculous," she argued. "The sex with Teddy was just fine. It was..._nic__e_," she said. "He was always very sweet to me."

"Fine? Nice?" he mocked. "Sounds like he really rocked your world."

"Oh, hush," she scolded. "There's more to a relationship than just sex."

"Clearly," he scoffed.

"I'm not talking about this anymore," she said, trying to make her voice sound firm but having a hard time hiding her laughter.

"Oh, come on, baby. You can tell me," he whispered conspiratorially. "It was Teddy, wasn't it?"

"No, it wasn't Teddy...well, it wasn't _just _Teddy," she stuttered as she watched his eyes light up in delight. "No, I mean," she floundered around for the right words, "Fine!" she threw her hands up in the air signaling defeat. "If you really want the truth, you're the only man I've ever been with who can make me come every single time. Okay? Happy now?"

"Really?" he asked, smiling widely, his eyes dancing with happiness.

"Yes," she rolled her eyes.

"So, what you're really saying," he drawled out slowly and deliberately, "is that I'm the best you've ever had?"

She laughed despite herself, "Well, of course you are!" she rolled her eyes. "_Really_, Deacon. As if you didn't already know that," she chided him good-naturedly.

"What can I say, baby?" he said, bringing her foot to his mouth and planting a happy kiss on the sole of her foot. "I may know it's the truth, but I ain't never gonna get tired of hearin' you say it out loud."

"Oh my god," she laughed in exasperation. "You can be such a _man, _sometimes."

"That's right, Ray," he answered, dropping her foot and leaning forward to plant a wet, lingering kiss on her lips. "And I ain't never gonna let you forget it, either." She placed her hand on his cheek and pulled him back in for a second, softer kiss, tasting the smile on his lips. He settled back against the tub and his eyes lingered on hers for a moment.

"He ever get you off?"

"Teddy?"

He nodded his head. His expression had turned serious but there was a curious look in his eyes, and she knew this was just another in a long line of conversations where they would slowly, patiently unpack one more piece of their past, look at it through a new perspective and then finally lay it to rest. They were finally, _truly _together, getting married in just a few days time, and there were no secrets between them now. No memory or experience that they couldn't talk about openly and honestly.

"Of course he did. It was just different with him, that's all."

"Different how?"

"Less intense, I guess," she answered. "The sex was nice, but he was always kind of reserved in bed. Never that spontaneous or anything. After a while, it was all pretty routine. Always in bed. Almost always in the same position."

"Sounds kinda boring."

"Well, I certainly never had the same kind of passion with him that I have with you," she said softly. "But I never expected to, either, you know?"

He nodded, a knowing look in his eyes.

"I've never felt anything like that with anyone but you, babe."

"Not even Luke?" he asked, watching her carefully.

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "Luke was fun. Different. _Distracting._ But he was so hell bent on us having this big, serious relationship. Then he proposed and my whole life got turned upside down. Suddenly, we were arguing and butting heads all the time. After that, even when we did have sex, it just wasn't _fun_ anymore."

"Why do you think it's so different for us?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Sex has never been boring for us," he said. "Even during our worst times...with the drinkin' and the fightin' and all those trips to rehab," he used his hand to motion back and forth between the two of them, "we've always had this."

"Yeah, we have," she agreed. "And it's always been amazing. It's always been so intense."

"Hell, when things were really bad between us, I sometimes wondered if sex was the one thing that kept us together," he said. "We'd have one of those knock down drag out fights that we were known for, and I'd think...this is it...one of us is finally gonna give up and walk away. But then we'd make love, and it was like all the hurt and the anger would just fall away. Like being in each other's arms would remind us that we were already right where we were supposed to be."

"I think it's because all of those things have always been so interconnected for us. The love, the passion, the sex, the music...even the fighting."

"I guess that's true," he said. "None of those things ever meant anything with anyone but you, Ray."

"I know what you mean, babe," she agreed. "I think that's why things were always so difficult for us while we were apart. The love was still there. The friendship...the partnership...but then there were so many things we couldn't act on. That's why after a while, I couldn't even make music with you anymore. It was still all so tangled up. And being with you in_ any_ way made it hard to be without you in every way."

"Yeah," he spoke quietly, "that was such a hard time for me. When you were married to Teddy. I still loved you. I had your friendship. I had the music..."

"Everything but the sex."

"Mmhmm," he nodded.

"But I guess that was easy enough to find," she said, her eyes cast downward and her voice soft, as if she were pressing on a bruise to see if it still hurt. "All those one night stands and meaningless flings you occupied yourself with."

"I suppose," he agreed. "But you know those girls never meant nothin' to me, Ray. It was just easier than being alone."

"What about Stacey? She must have meant something to you. Seemed like you had a pretty serious relationship with her."

"Well, _tried _to anyway," he smirked. "First time she ever met you, she realized just how large your shadow loomed over my life and that put quite the damper on things. Then, of course, you showed up on my door step, all hell bent on seducin' me, and that was the end of that."

"What did you like about her?" she asked.

"She was a sweet girl. Smart. Pretty. She seemed kinda impressed with me in the bedroom. Which was, _you know_...flattering. Honestly, I don't think she had a whole lot of experience with dating."

"And Megan? I never understood how you ended up with her. She just didn't seem like your type at all."

"I think that's why I was attracted to her," he admitted. "After the accident, I was so messed up. I was so scared and angry...I just kept pushin' everyone I knew away. But she'd seen me at my worst and still wanted to be around me. Plus, she wasn't the least bit intimated by you...by my history with you. I don't know...I was trying so hard to move on from everything. I think it was easier for me to be with someone who believed I didn't have feelings for you anymore. Like if she believed it, maybe I could too."

"And the sex?" she asked, because she could. And, because it still hurt a little.

"Pretty wild, at first. In the beginning, she was up for anything...which was fun. But after a while, everything felt kinda off. I think she had this idea of me as this bad boy musician, you know, and I always felt like she was tryin' to impress me or something. Truth be told, things fizzled out pretty quickly. We were barely even sleepin' together towards the end." A dark, angry look crossed his face, "'Course, now I know she was gettin' it from somewhere else," he said bitterly. "That mighta had something to do with it."

She sat quietly for a moment, watching the bitterness cloud his expression. "Well, she was a fool to let you go," she said, knowingly. "Take it from someone who knows."

His eyes met hers, and she could see the anger slowly dissipate. "I guess none of that matters now anyway, does it?" he said, visibly relaxing.

"No, it doesn't, babe," she agreed. "All of those things that happened in the past? They happened just like they were supposed to. And they all brought us to right here...right where we're supposed to be."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed. "And now here you are...in my life, in my bathtub," she gave him a happy, exaggerated wink, "and right between my legs. And I am never _ever_ lettin' you go, again, Deacon Claybourne."

Suddenly, he smiled. A full, bright, happy smile that he'd been using more and more regularly these days. "And there ain't no other place I'd rather be, baby." He leaned forward quickly, not caring at all about the bath water that splashed onto the floor, and placed a long, happy kiss on her mouth. She giggled against his lips and he leaned his forehead against hers "You make me so goddamn happy, Ray," he whispered. "I love you, baby."

"I love you, too, babe. With everything I have."

"Are you ready to get out of this tub, yet?" he asked, with a smile. "I'm startin' to get wrinkly."

She nodded her head, and allowed her eyes to rake over his body as he climbed out of the bath, water dripping off the hard planes of his body and all over their bathroom floor. He grabbed a towel off the rack and slowly dried his whole body before wrapping it securely below his waist. A lone drop of water fell from his hair and glided all the way down his chest, over his slightly-faded surgery scar, and down his lean stomach before being absorbed by the edge of his towel. He was a beautiful site to behold, and she was so damn thankful that he was all hers.

"You know, now that you're feelin' a little better," he started, grabbing a second towel and shaking it out for her, "maybe you should show me some of them fancy new outfits you got at your party. Maybe even try a couple of 'em on for me," he suggested, grinning wildly.

* * *

"Oh, Ray…_oh_," his head was thrown back on the couch and his hands were fisted in her hair. "Oh, _god_," he groaned loudly, his eyes squeezed shut.

They had been officially, legally, _finally_ married three days ago, and Deacon and Rayna were thoroughly enjoying their private, clothing-optional honeymoon at the cabin.

She threaded her arms through the thin straps of her camisole and pulled the lacy fabric over her head and down over her breasts. "How was that, babe?" she asked, climbing up from between his legs and gently snuggling into his side.

"_Holy hell_, Ray," he panted, still trying to get his breathing under control. "That was somethin' else."

They were back on the couch in the living room. They'd made love in the bed, of course, in the shower, and even on the creaky porch swing huddled under an old quilt while they had watched the sun setting over the lake. But the couch had always been one of their favorite spots. The nights were still a little chilly this time of year, and Deacon had built a fire for them every night. Cuddling on the couch usually resulted in them tossing the cushions and blankets onto the floor, stretching out on the soft rug in front of the fireplace and tangling their naked bodies together in the soft light of the dancing flames.

Tonight, though, she had gently pushed him down onto the couch, straddled his lap, and kissed him long and slow. She had run her hands all over his chest and nibbled his bottom lip until he thought he would explode with desire. Just when he'd decided he couldn't take another moment of her teasing, she had slowly stripped off the thin camisole she'd been wearing and sank to her knees to share one of Mistress Vivienne's more advanced lessons with him.

It had started out simply enough a few days ago. She'd made an off-handed joke about Mistress Vivienne and her unorthodox "pleasure lessons," and he'd teased her that she'd probably been Mistress Vivienne's worst student.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she'd yelped, offended.

"I just mean you were never the most studious person, is all," he'd explained, a glint in his eye.

When he'd met Rayna all those years ago, she'd been a Sophomore in high school and to say that she was uninterested in her education was a huge understatement. The girls in her private school had constantly teased her about her dreams of becoming a country music star, and her father had seemed perpetually disappointed in her inability to earn perfect grades the way her older sister did. Once she had performed on stage for the very first time, during the second slot of an open mic night where there were only five people in the audience, she'd been sure of her destiny and her studies had become the furthest thing from her mind.

"Oh, please," she'd argued. "I had way bigger dreams than landing on the Dean's list at some pretentious, all-girls prep school. Okay, babe? Nothing good came out of that school and me leaving early to get my GED didn't hurt nothing."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that," he'd eyed her lecherously. "I have some pretty fond memories of that school uniform of yours."

"Do not even say that. That thing was hideous, Deacon! There was nothing even remotely sexy about that awful pleated, khaki skirt monstrosity I had to wear."

"There wasn't nothin' awful about the way you filled out that sweater vest, baby."

"Ugh, I hated that damn thing. I could never get it off fast enough."

"Me, neither," he'd wiggled his eyebrows, remembering quite a few after school song-writing sessions that ended with her despised school uniform laying discarded in the bed of his beat up pick up truck.

"I may have hated high school but that doesn't mean I was a bad student," she'd defended.

"I don't know, darlin,'" he'd argued. "I seem to remember trying to give you guitar lessons when we were younger, and we all know how well that turned out. I spent an entire summer trying to teach you a few basic melodies, and you still can't pick out an entire song to save your life."

"Oh, please," she'd yelped. "We both know I only asked you to give me guitar lessons because I was trying to get you into my bed. I know how to play just enough chords to write a song, and I've never had any interest in doing anything on stage but singing."

"All these years later and the truth finally comes out," he'd laughed. "I guess the questions is: now that you got me in your bed, what are you gonna do with me?"

Never one to back down from a challenge, Rayna had simply stripped Deacon of his clothing and shown him just how well she had paid attention to Mistress Vivienne's tutelage.

"So, you liked that baby?" she asked, pulling the red, plaid blanket from the back of the couch and wrapping it around them.

"More than liked, Ray. _Jesus Christ_," he moaned. "It felt like your hands were everywhere...all at once."

"That's called the basket weave," she hummed.

"The basket weave," he sighed. "That's a real good one, baby."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. That's definitely my favorite."

"You've said that every single time," she chuckled happily, running her hand lightly over his naked chest and admiring the way her wedding rings sparkled in the firelight.

"You're right," he turned his head towards her and placed a sweet kiss on her lips. "We'll just have to go through all of 'em again, one by one, so I can decide for sure."

She laughed quietly and rested her head against his shoulder, enjoying this sweet moment with her new husband.

"That thing you did with your mouth...right at the end?" he asked, running his fingers lightly across her arm. "What do ya call that one?"

"Don't know if that one has a name," she answered. "It wasn't in the class. Just kinda came up with it in the moment."

"Well, it worked out just right, baby. You'll have to remember that one. I sure wouldn't mind you tryin' it out again sometime."

"I'll just do that, babe."

"I gotta tell you, Ray," he sighed happily, "this honeymoon has just been a dream come true. Gettin' to spend all this time together by ourselves, seein' you with that ring on your finger…,"

"Knowing we don't have to wear clothes for an entire week," she purred.

"Oh, that's definitely up there. Although, I've really enjoyed this little number you've got on," he said. She was wearing a sheer, pink lace cami and thong set that she'd received as a gift at her bachelorette party. When she'd walked out of the bedroom that morning, his eyes had widened with desire. Without a word, he'd lifted her on top of the breakfast bar and used his tongue and fingers to show her just how much he appreciated her honeymoon attire. Later, when they were eating their breakfast, the eggs had been a bit overcooked and the toast had been burnt but neither one had cared. They were both still smiling over the fact that he had made her come on the same counter only moments before. When she had stood up to pour them both a second cup of coffee, he had traced his finger down the thin strap of her top and told her in that shy, happy voice he only used with her that she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. She'd decided right then and there to wear that outfit for the rest of the day.

"It sure is nice...just being able to make love whenever and wherever we want," she sighed happily. "I almost can't believe we get to make love to each other for the whole rest of our lives."

"And you with a whole new skill set for us to enjoy," he teased. "Sure sounds like a happily ever after to me."

"Well, I'm just glad you can finally appreciate what a diligent student I am."

"You've certainly been dedicated to your studies, baby. Ain't no denying that."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, leaning in for another long, lazy kiss.

"How 'bout I take you to bed?" his hand moved slowly over her thigh, his finger tracing the edge of her panties, "Show you just how much I appreciate all them new skills you been practicing."

"Maybe you should thank Mistress Vivienne," she teased. "Send her a thank you note. A fruit basket. Something like that. She is the one who taught the class, after all."

"Hell, baby," he answered. "I'll even thank Tandy. She's the one who threw you the damn Bachelorette party in the first place.


End file.
